


Royal Liberties

by strictlybecca



Series: fifteen pieces of nagron [8]
Category: Spartacus: Vengeance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Arranged Marriage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-26
Updated: 2012-12-26
Packaged: 2017-11-22 11:48:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/609511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strictlybecca/pseuds/strictlybecca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prince Agron has been betrothed to Prince Nasir since they were both very young. Their last meeting was at age eight, and ended in an all out brawl. Today is the day they meet for the very first time since they last laid eyes on one another, nearly twelve years ago.</p><p>This might not end well. </p><p>(Or it might end really, really well.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Royal Liberties

**Author's Note:**

> Oh man, I'm technically a day (or two?) late with this one. This was the prompt for Christmas Eve from citymusings, who asked for an arranged marriage/royalty AU.
> 
> This one got away from me too. Sorry about the lateness!

“Your _nice_ cloak, Your Highness,” his manservant said impatiently, tugging Agron’s favorite cloak off of his shoulders with the sort of impudence that Agron almost meant to scold but never really got around to. “You don’t meet your betrothed every day.”

“I already met ‘im,” Agron said around a mouthful of apple, ignoring the nudging and pushing and prodding of Gerhardt as much as possible. “When we were little and he was a rat then and I’m sure he’ll be a bigger rat now.”

“You were eight,” the manservant said, long-suffering and exasperated beyond belief. “You were a rat too.”

“Was not,” Agron muttered, his voice muffled around the apple core he’d stuck in his mouth.

“You forget, Your Highness, I’ve known you since birth,” Gerhardt said helpfully, “You’ve been a rat since as least as long as that.” Agron made a displeased face before finally tugging himself out of Gerhardt’s hands.

“I was perfectly charming,” Agron said defensively and scowled when Gerhardt started laughing.

“You pulled the poor boy’s hair and told him he looked like a girl!” he wheezed out, leaning against the dresser in an attempt to stay standing. “If that’s you being charming, well,” Gerhardt coughed, swallowing down more laughter, “Well, I guess I’m not surprised then.”

“Out!” Agron shouted, storming back into his closet, determined not to face anymore of Gerhardt’s laughter.

“Don’t forget your boots, Highness!” Gerhardt called after him, and Agron petulantly tugged on his oldest, ugliest boots in protest.

- 

“You act as if you’re headed for the gallows,” Naevia said from behind her book, her amused eyes peeking over as Nasir slowly tugged his formal clothes on.

“Might as well be,” Nasir muttered and Naevia laughed, tucking her book away and eyeing Nasir more closely.

“Wear the red. Red suits you,” she said, settling her hands on her knees. Nasir made a rustrated noise and immediately reached for blue shirt. Naevia scoffed and rolled her eyes. In a minute she was across the room and snatching the blue shirt from Nasir’s hands, shoving his red one in them instead. “Why are you being so stubborn?” 

“I don’t want to do this!” Nasir bit out, fumbling the red shirt on angrily. “The last time I met this man he was rude and arrogant and-”

“And merely a boy!” Naevia said, laughing lightly. “And you were no stellar guest yourself!”

“I didn’t knock him down and torment him cruelly about being weak and small,” Nasir snapped, shrugging on his doublet before grabbing his belt. Naevia laid a gentling hand on his, raising one eyebrow meaningfully.

“No, but you did taunt him repeatedly about being slow and stupid in lessons, about how he’d never amount to much as a king being such a fool,” Naevia reminded him pointedly and Nasir flushed, tucking his hair back. Naevia tsked and slapped his hands away, taking it upon herself to re-braid his hair. “Now, why don’t you try and remember it’s been more than ten years since you’ve seen one another.”

“Not long enough,” Nasir muttered stubbornly, and yelped as Naevia yanked on his hair in retaliation.

“Sorry,” she said sweetly, sounding not sorry at all. “Now go find your good cloak, we have to be downstairs in a few minutes.”

- 

Agron stormed down the stairs, his cloak snapping out behind him. The hallways were full of bustling servants who all knew well to stay out of Agron’s way when he strode through the halls like man possessed. He was not one known for mercy when he was so angered, though usually the servants were spared his ire while the knights he trained received particularly ruthless beatings.

He remembered too well the initial meeting between he and the Prince of the neighboring kingdom, remembered very clearly how his parents had told him of the betrothal and the future wedding and how little say Agron had in it all. He was only a boy, but even then he understood the constant restrictions and isolation of a prince’s duty – it was not his place, as heir apparent, to question his father’s choices – only to obey.

And the boy had been so different from anyone Agron had ever met – he had been small, like Duro, and Agron had towered over him, even at such a young age. He had clung to his books and stories and Agron could remember being curious – but only until Prince Nasir had snapped at him, saying something that Agron could not even remember now, years later. But it had stung Agron’s feelings, enough that he fought back in the only manner he knew how – physically. Agron’s father had to separate them himself. Agron winced in memory of the punishment he received for that breach of etiquette – he would not forget that moment any time soon.

Agron could admit now, in the comfort of his own mind, that perhaps he had been intimidating to the smaller boy, prompting the original taunt – but he couldn’t imagine the tiny, weasel of a boy having grown up into anyone worthy of notice or marriage. He couldn’t imagine having to ever be _married_ to someone like Prince Nasir, not ever.

“Well, don’t you look pleasant,” Duro said, grinning, ignoring Agron’s growl with ease. “Ready to meet your maker – I mean, future husband?” Agron’s look could have killed Duro dead on the spot – but instead, he just smirked. “Come now, all you need do is walk down the aisle beside him to our parents, they will announce your betrothal to the court and then you sit and smile for awhile until dinner. It’s not exactly the most difficult thing you’ve ever done.”

Agron let out a shaky breath. “No, I suppose not,” he said, letting Duro fuss with the drape of his cloak. “I managed to keep you alive your whole childhood, didn’t I?” he said, a faint glimmer of a smirk on his lips. Duro punched him on the shoulder, but they both laughed – until the bright call of trumpets sounded and Duro nudged him to the door.

“Go be as charming as you can manage,” Duro advised, sounding less than convinced. Agron bared his teeth at him in a mockery of a smile before entering the Great Hall and letting his face melt into well-practiced blankness.

Agron strode forward until he reached the center aisle, where in the distance, pass the crowds of courtiers, he could vaguely make out his parents beside another set of well dressed people. He paused, waiting for the second sounding of trumpets that would mean the arrival of Prince Nasir – a moment later, he felt a presence at his elbow and he turned to face the man he hadn’t seen since childhood. 

And was struck dumb.

The slight, tiny boy had grown into a slim, short man, wiry strength apparent in his arms and chest despite the way Agron still towered over him. There was something warm about his eyes and the way his mouth seemed permanently curved into a sly smile – and he was _beautiful_. Beautiful in a way that didn’t seem quite real to Agron for a long moment – and it was only the abrupt squalling of horns that shook him back into reality.

“I-” he started uncertainly, glancing down the aisle. “I suppose we should go.”

“I suppose we should,” Prince Nasir murmured, his voice like velvet.

-

Nasir had not been anticipating… _this_.

 _This_ being the bully of Nasir’s young nightmares having turned into the most gorgeous man Nasir had ever seen in his life. At least a full head taller than him, Prince Agron stood, broad shouldered and lazily confident in his own skin in a way that sent shivers down Nasir’s spine. Every aspect of him seemed perfect – even the scars that marred the visible slivers of skin seemed only to emphasize the power and strength of the man before him – who was looking at him in a way that made Nasir’s stomach twist in delight. 

Nasir let a slight smile curl across his lips and when Agron suggested they go, he could only respond and duck his head to hide the wide grin that wanted to escape.

Almost in tandem, they stuck out their arms as if to offer them to a lady they were escorting – and knocked each other solidly in the elbow. Agron choked on a laugh and Nasir snorted and they glanced at one another again, heat dancing along the line of their gazes.

“Sorry,” Agron murmured, his smile revealing wide dimples that made Nasir’s heart thunder in his ears. 

“Habit,” Nasir murmured in response, and with a slight nod from Agron they were both on their way down the aisle, Agron automatically shortening his stride to match Nasir, who sped up slightly to match Agron’s pace.

They arrived at the front of the Great Hall at the exact same moment, each bowing to their own parents, and then to each other’s.

“With great joy and deepest honor, we announce the engagement of your Prince, Agron the Fierce, heir of House Albrecht and beloved of his people-” his mother said in a bright, ringing tone that filled the whole of the room with ease. She paused and turned to take the hand of Nasir’s mother, smiling warmly and gathering her palm between both of hers.

Nasir’s mother continued without hesitation, “To the heir of the House of Beselei, my beloved son, Prince Nasir Attar Nahum, Prime Healer of the Kingdom. It is with a full and glad heart that we bring our two families and kingdoms together under one rule."

“May we present, Prince Nasir and Prince Agron, your future Kings.”

The thunderous applause that greeted the announcement surprised Nasir and he nearly took a step back as the wall of sound hit them – but Agron’s warm arm was settled at his back almost instantly, and he held him steady. “Thank you,” he murmured, glancing up at Agron, whose heavy, intent gaze seemed to pin him to the spot. “Thank you, _husband_ ,” he amended, smiling slightly. 

“You’re quite welcome, _husband_ ,” Agron mimicked, smiling wide enough that his dimples appeared again, making Nasir grin in response. “I hope you do not mind if I take liberties?” Agron murmured, ducking his head to brush a kiss to Nasir’s cheek, sending the crowd into ear-shattering cheers.

Nasir’s smile was bright as Agron pulled away, looking sheepish but determined. “Not at all,” Nasir said, leaning more solidly into Agron’s side. “As long as you do not mind if I take some of my own.” Agron looked at him eagerly, clearly anticipating another kiss – and, if by the slight jump that followed, certainly wasn’t anticipating Nasir pinching his ass. He gaped down at his future husband before starting to laugh, already hearing his father’s barking laugh behind him, knowing both his parents and future parents-in-law witnessed Nasir’s presumption. 

“I have no complaints,” he replied with as straight a face as he could manage. Nasir nodded solemnly back at him, despite his left hand having settled firmly and proprietarily on Agron’s ass.

Perhaps this marriage lark wouldn’t be too bad after all.


End file.
